


i held your hand and i knew forever

by selfetish



Series: to last through forever (and another day) [3]
Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: AshEijiSecretSanta2020, Banter, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Japan, M/M, Slice of Life, Snow Day, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28481277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selfetish/pseuds/selfetish
Summary: “Let’s stay. Just a while longer. Please,” Ash whispers, moving his pinky so that it touches the knit of Eiji’s mitten. It’s enough to excite him.“Don’t you think your trick to get me to hold your hand is a little outdated?” Eiji takes his right mitten off and interlaces his fingers with Ash’s.“You’ll freeze,” he says. Despite his warnings, he silently wishes he doesn’t let go. Eiji feels like home. Ash squeezes Eiji’s hand like he’d disappear forever if they part, that he’d fall into the interdimensional space and never experience this cloyingly intimate moment ever again.Ash and Eiji conjure up a blizzard.
Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Series: to last through forever (and another day) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877248
Comments: 15
Kudos: 84





	i held your hand and i knew forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [splishsplashxox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/splishsplashxox/gifts).



> ahhhh hiii this is my secret santa gift for robin!!! thank you for hosting, rimi!!!! 
> 
> i loved writing this one! i hope that you enjoy and that the fluff is as sweet as taffy. have a happy new year!! :-)) <333
> 
> (the title is a lyric from "all because of you" by stephen day!!!!)

i.

Eiji is currently hopping on his feet, left right, left right; slipping mismatched woolen socks over his ankles and causing an earthquake with every stomp. Ash blows his bangs out of his face and looks up from his book from his bedside, pointing the temple of his glasses at him.

“Little too late to boogie.”

Eiji huffs and pretends to not to hear the low murmur of his voice, proceeding to unbutton his pajama shirt from the bottom, up. Ash raises a brow at the extremely strange sequence of events, but doesn’t question his boyfriend’s choice. Ash is a quiet observer after all. Likes to soak in the sights and observe every minute detail in silence to formulate some kind of philosophical meaning in nature. It’s just what his brain _does_ , and right now, he’s trying to find deeper meaning in Eiji’s pecs poking out of his shirt. The soft ridges of his abs. Sharpness of his clavicles.

“You’d better take yours off too,” says Eiji and it catches Ash completely off guard. Just like that, Eiji’s already got him red in the face and unable to read the words beneath his fingertips.

When did he get so _assertive?_ Rather, when was Ash going to accept the fact that they’d been together for _years_ at this point and that he still gets butterflies from him close to shirtless? Steam pushes out of ears and nostrils as he hides behind Woolf, ruminating on the passage of time and six-packs and the reason as to _why on Earth_ someone would decide to put socks on before shrugging their shirt off. It’s the idea of a total Adonis nude— save for his Nori Nori socks— that gets him. 

By the time Ash had collected himself and had mustered the courage to face Eiji again, he was already working on wiggling his legs out of his pants. Ash swallows thickly and wipes his sweat away with the sleeve of his pullover, biting his lip as he admires the thighs of an ex-athlete.

Maybe it isn’t too late to boogie.

“Alright, Sunshine. I get you’re excited, but _damn_. Movin’ kinda fast here, aren’t we?”

Eiji stops to cock his head to the side in his signature ‘What-the-hell-are-you-talking-about’ look as he turns his pant-legs inside out.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Right on cue. “Wait, did you think I was—” He clasps his shirt shut with a hand, cheeks burning a similar sanguine hue. “No!”

Ash folds the corner of his page and sets his book on the nightstand, jaw dropping incredulously.

“You’re the one who’s,” he wildly motions to Eiji’s half-naked form, “ _strip-teasing_ me! What else am I ‘sposed to think?”

“Ash!” Eiji grabs the nearest item— his contacts case— and chucks it at Ash’s face. “I’m trying a snow day ritual out, you goof! If I wanted to get intimate—”

“Okay, okay! Perfect place to end this conversation.” Ash reaches for the lamp and flicks it off. He turns his body opposite of Eiji’s side and pulls the duvet up to his nose, screwing his eyes shut. “I’m going to sleep. Night,” he says gruffly.

A snow day ritual, huh? Ash smiles to himself. He thinks of his own rituals with Griff. He remembers pulling the handle of their freezer with his grubby hands and checking on the blue ice tray on the highest rack every five minutes, looking to see if the water had solidified. After a couple of hours, Griff would smash it against the countertop and drop the little, cold cubes into his palms. Ash would rush to the bathroom before they could turn into a puddle. He’d pray quick prayers to Jesus, Mary and Joseph for a storm before plopping the cubes into the toilet and flushing; watching his toothless grin in the whirlpool.

It hardly ever worked, but he decides to keep his mouth shut to keep the magic alive for Eiji as Griff did to him before he left for his tour.

He listens to the soft pit-pat of Eiji’s steps as he walks to bed, weight shifting toward his side as he sits down. Eiji pulls the duvet a little too much and he feels a cold gust blow at his ankles. He shivers at the contact and hauls all of the blanket to himself, and it’s like Eiji knew he’d do just that. He rolls right into his territory and presses himself flush against Ash’s back. An arm locks around his waist and a leg over his thighs.

“You’re being a total sloth right now, you know,” Ash murmurs, feeling like one of those long branches for Eiji to hang off of. Not that he was complaining.

“Huh?” Eiji’s chin slips perfectly into place in that junction where the neck meets the shoulder and Ash hears and feels the gentle exhales on his skin.

The scent of his shampoo tickles his nose. It’s sweet like clementines and honey and reminds him of spring. Colors splash under his eyelids and it makes him wish for picnics and peonies instead of the ennui of snow.

“Sloth also happens to be a cardinal sin,” he muses, trying to come up with some obtuse allusion to Eiji’s fingers currently fiddling with the hem of his sweater and his nails raking over his tummy. Ash forms the patterns that Eiji draws with his fingertips in the darkness of his shut eyes. He sees figure-eights and misshapen hearts.

“I’m warming you up. You like to be warm, don’t you?” Ash’s body is gilted with gooseflesh as he purrs into his ear. “You feel very warm.”

“So, ‘hot.’”

“I must be doing a good job then."

“Very good. _Too_ good,” Ash sighs as Eiji’s hand crawls further north, caressing his chest and turning his spring into a summer heatwave. He buries his profile into his pillow, still feigning tiredness.“What’s your game, Okumura?”

“No game,” he hums innocently, talking directly to his earlobe. Ash feels every flap of his lips there; a kiss with every syllable. He’s over the moon.“I was thinking we’d be doubly lucky if we also turned your clothes inside out.”

“This another one of your snow day rituals?”

“We can make it one, if you want.”

Ash releases a pleased ‘ _mm_ ’ as Eiji contours the shape of his waist down to his hip, planting open-mouthed kisses along the base of his neck.

“Then let's make a blizzard,” he says, craning his head back to smirk. Eiji sits up on one of his forearms and cups his cheek, moving down to capture Ash’s lips.

ii.

It’s cold. 

Eiji is missing— probably getting ready to catch the first train. His sweater is… somewhere. Not on him. On the floor, maybe, or the foot of the bed. Whatever. He’ll look for it in five once he blinks off the crust from his slumber.

It’s a still morning. Mornings are always still in winter. No calls from songbirds or the clicking of cicadas, or the rustle of leaves. A big fat nothing, really. Bitter for no reason at all. Ugly and bleak. Even the daylight spilling from the window is gray, tinging their bedroom a muted periwinkle. Makes him want to stay under the covers forever until Eiji comes home to make everything bright and merry.

“Ash.”

Must still be dreaming.

“Ash.”

“Hm?” He rolls over to Eiji’s side of the bed and breathes his pillow in, feeling the sensations of last night’s embrace holding him tight.

“Look!”

Ash cracks an eye open, delighted to see Eiji in his (inside-out) sweater staring outside with his nose and hands pressed onto the glass. His surroundings take on a warmer hue and the fruit of Eiji’s scent is fresh in his mouth; juicy and tart and tasty. 

“Good morning to you too,” Ash greets with a cracked voice, shifting on his side to admire the too-large pullover on Eiji’s frame, stopping at the top of his long legs. It looks good on him. Extremely. He traces the cherry skidmarks dotting his neck and shoulders and the underside of his thighs and he feels a fire rip through him.

Ash stretches his arms before getting up. He hugs himself, moving his hands up and down his biceps to warm himself from the old whispers outside of his blanket.

“Hi,” he says, kissing Eiji’s cheek from behind. Eiji secures Ash’s arms around his waist and leans back, sighing contentedly at the tenderness. Ash notices first the smile plastered on his face in the reflection of the glass before registering the flurries departing from the clouds in an unwavering descent. “Ah. It’s snowing.”

“It is!” He twirls his body around and hangs his wrists on his shoulders. Trying to match Eiji’s enthusiasm, his stare lingers a bit longer at the spectacle overhead.

“It’s coming down hard.”

“—A _blizzard!_ ” Eiji interjects and hops up to smooch him square on the lips. “We did this!”

“Did we?” Ash cocks his head, heart soaring at the crescents on his cheeks.

“Yes!” Another smooch. “You and I are magical!”

Ash peers out the frosted glass and makes out the bobbing reds and blues and yellow of knitted caps on the horizon, pausing at the sound of children’s laughter. Then, he ogles Eiji and caresses the contour of his face with the back of his hand as if to snapshot this moment in time and etch it onto his soul. Leaning down, he kisses him kindly, cradling him in his arms like he could melt like a snowflake landing on skin.

“I guess we are.”

Eiji thrills and presses his ear to his chest, listening to the drum of his heart filling the silence. They sway to its beat.

* * *

Eiji is a little bundle of clothes. His head pokes out of a huge, puffy white jacket and a navy woolen scarf that he has to wrap around his neck more than thrice.

“You look like a snowman,” Ash teases, watching as he struggles to tie his boots on the steps. Ash kneels down and helps him.

“You look underdressed,” grumbles Eiji into his scarf. Ash double, then triple knots the laces.

“I’m dressed for a nice date with my boyfriend. Suave and romantic.” Ash stands and dusts the knees of his jeans. He fixes the tufts of onyx hair curling from his brown trapper— which is way too big on him and comes down to eyebrows— and pats his head. “And you? Like we’re getting ready to hike up the Alps.”

“What’s wrong with that? I’m ready for anything!” Eiji counters with bruised vanity, raising both of his mittened fists up. Cute.

“Nothing. Just don’t wanna be luggin’ your coat around when you get hot.” 

“Well, I don’t want to hear you complain about how cold you are in your ‘suaves and romantics.’” Eiji stands on his tiptoes to fix the collar of Ash’s signature beige long coat. “At least put my scarf on.”

“Got one built in right here,” he says, tugging on his black turtleneck.

“That’s not enough.” He begins to unloop it from his neck. Ash stops him, holding his wrists in his hands. 

“It’s enough.” He adds, albeit a bit abruptly, “I have you.”

Eiji surrenders, eyes dreamy with visions of Ash and ears ringing with ariose ‘ _I have yous_.’ Ash drops their hands and Eiji shoves them into his pockets, quite _grumpy_ he’d become victim yet again to Ash’s sweet-talking.

“Fine. Let’s go, Lover Boy.” He links his arm with Ash’s and presses the fat of his cheek begrudgingly against him, bracing for the fierce tundra he had conjured up in his imagination.

iii.

The landscape is invariable; a blanket of white that went past the next town over; a sheet that seemed to go on forever into the horizon. The ground is crystalline and sparkles like diamonds when the sun, peeking through a swathe of mistiness, hits it just right. The snow crunches with every step, recording the footprints of their rendezvous if they ever wanted to play the scenes back.

The wisterias lining the path had long lost the dangling lavender flora and had become naked with rime; an empty shell of its former self. Ash watches as clumps of snow fall through its forked limbs and it fills him with an indescribable longing. He takes a look around, turns on his heels and it’s like he hasn’t moved a inch in this unchanging environment. His world is awash with dove grays and tinted lobelias and Eiji is nowhere in sight in this fog. 

He begins to worry. Where had he gone off to? Leaving him behind like this… What if he gets lost and won’t be able to find his way back home? What if he somehow happens to step onto a frozen pond, and the ice cracks and the below-freezing water tugs him down by the ankles and drowns him until he’s purple? What then? 

Before he can call out for him, something thuds him on the back.

“Sneak attack!” Eiji sings, emerging from the winter haze with a mischievous grin behind him. Thank God.

“You—” Oh. A declaration of war. “You’re gonna regret that,” says Ash, bending down to cup some of the fluffy snow into his hands.

“Ash. Hey. Wait a second.” Eiji begins to walk backwards, smile vanishing on his expression as he sees the softball-sized ball forming in his palms. “It was a joke. You’re not actually going to throw _that,_ are you? Oh my goodness.”

Ash mimics the position of a baseball pitcher. He narrows his eyes, aiming. He lifts a leg up and it’s Eiji’s cue to _book it._ Ash tries to suppress a laugh (and fails miserably) as he stretches his arm back and lunges forward.

“Where are you going?”

“Away!” exclaims Eiji, waddling like a penguin. He doesn’t get that far. Ash catches up to him in brisk strides and Eiji breaks out into a jog, throwing his head back in terror as Ash nears him. 

“Wait up!”

“Never!” he says between breaths. His arms are in perfect perpendicular motion and his feet are kicking dusty snow in his wake and Ash seriously _cannot_ believe he resorts to his track form to escape him from his frigid wrath. Ash is actually struggling to keep up, practically skating in his boots as he traipses around thick batches of snow piles. Not having paid attention to where he was going, Eiji trips on his own feet and lands face-first into the frost, molding his body into the ground like one of those crime scene outlines.

“That’s,” he wheezes, “what you get! You blend right in!” Ash’s howls echo into the wind as he doubles over, clutching the hardened snowball to his chest. It’d be wrong of him to attack a downed man. He settles on bullying instead.

Eiji lies still in his cast, unmoving. Ash wipes the tears from his eyes and sits on his hams, petting Eiji’s hat.

“Did you hit your head? My _poor_ baby.”

No response. He raises a brow, nudging the curve of his cheek with his knuckle.

“What? Are you waiting for me to kiss it all better? After that stunt you pulled? Oh, _no way,_ bucko. You can lay there for as long as you want. I ain’t helpin’ a warmonger.”

Nothing. Not even one of his smartass comments under his breath.

Sighing, Ash chucks the snowball near his head and stands up, patting his coat down. Before he can put a foot forward, however, Eiji wakes up from his blizzard-induced coma and leaps to grab his calf, pulling him down to his level.

Ash hits the ground and it takes the wind out of him, releasing a small ‘oof’ as he free-falls in slow motion on the glittering veneer. In an instant, Eiji is on top of him with a Cheshire cat grin, hoarding heaps of powdery snow into his arms to drop onto Ash. What a dirty move! He wonders where he gets it from.

Reflexively, Ash shields his face from the oncoming avalanche, staring at him through the spaces of his fingers. The rosette blushing on his cheeks and on the lobes of his ears are glowing and it’s prettier than the shimmering motes caught in the errant strands of his hair and the rainbows reflecting all around them. His defenses begin to falter and he lets the hot-cold of the icy barrage prick his numbing face.

“I win!” Eiji cries.

“Because _I_ have _honor_!” Ash shoves him back and pins him against the ground. “To think I was dating a sweet, caring, _fair_ guy... Who even _are_ you? Should I call you Sun Tzu with how absolutely _filthy_ you’re playing?”

Eiji repeats the gesture, rolling him over until he was straddling his hips. He forms a ball in his mittens as he chuckles at Ash’s distrust.

“Not filthy! Smart! ‘Surprise’ _is_ a principle of war.” He looks up to the sky, lost in thought. “Don’t ask me what the other ones are because I wouldn’t be able to tell you. But! There are no rules in battle, you know. Especially a snowball fight.”

“You’re a goddamned booger.”

Eiji winks, and plops the malformed snowball onto his chest, watching it go off like a powdery shell.

Ah.

He’s so cute.

Ash can’t even be mad with how giddy Eiji looks right now as he wrestles him back down under him, instigating the exact reaction that he desired. Eiji folds his legs around his hips and lifts his face up with the heel of his palm to gain the upperhand, and it pans out like that for what seems like the entire day. Eiji, then Ash, and then Eiji again. They’d become the red-blue-yellow children he’d seen out the window this morning, roughhousing like the boys they’d casted deep in the depths of their souls. Suddenly, he’s Aslan Jade Callenreese. He’s missing his two front teeth. He’s in a ski jumper three sizes too big and he’s wearing earmuffs that make him look like a bear cub. He’s reminded of a distant time in which snowfall and crumbling igloos and snowmen weren’t so melancholic or morose or miserable, rather, something he used to be enthused by. It’d been so long since he felt like this. So carefree. So full of love.

Ash realizes, as they tackle each other down, as they tumble down a shallow trench on the side of the pathway in each other’s arms that it’s Eiji. 

It’s Eiji who had relinquished the gloaming and unlocked that part of him that he had long shed. The boy trapped in the confines of a thorny, heart-shaped box and sealed away from the world, only surfacing in moments like these. Moments with him. A light prism had released and his blank outlook on winter had filled with colors so brilliant and too beautiful for words. He admires the way they fill in between the lines, like one of those oil paintings he’d seen at the Metropolitan once.

“Can we take a breather?” Eiji gasps.

“That’s synonymous with surrendering.”

“Ugh. Whatever. You can have this one,” he huffs. “I’ll get you back. Maybe not now or later, but I will one day. I never forget.”

Ash lays next to him. His hands rest on his diaphragm and he feels it expand and constrict; a sure sign that he’s alive and breathing and _there._ The dots flurrying down are melting on the tip of his nose and his teeth are chattering. He hears the sleds from the neighborhood kids going down man-made hills and the _swish-swish_ of Eiji’s jacket as he stretches his arms and legs in, then out, in, then out.

“Might as well since we’re down here already,” notes Eiji, turning his head toward Ash with a smile. “You should make an angel too!”

“Yeah.” He’s a part of that distant picture he’d always dreamed of. He’d always been the outsider; watching the lovers in Central Park clutching onto each other’s arm as they circled the pond and down at Rockefeller, kissing under the tree. He ponders a second, never once envisioning himself in such a Hallmark scene with someone to call his own, here, in a foreign country in some sleepy, backwater town; feeling his heart fill up to the brim with syrupy nectar. He basks in it, closes his eyes, and lets it pump into his veins.

“What will you name your angel?” asks Eiji.

 _Eiji_. “Raphael.”

“In that case, I’ll name mine Michelangelo.”

“What?”

“Michelangelo.”

“I heard you. Any particular reason for that fancy name?”

“Our favorite Ninja Turtle, right?”

A lump catches in Ash’s throat and he knows he’s knee-deep in sap with just a few words, a smile, and a stare. This is too much. He’s so happy he could cry.

“Let’s stay. Just a while longer. Please,” Ash whispers, moving his pinky so that it touches the knit of Eiji’s mitten. It’s enough to excite him.

“Don’t you think your trick to get me to hold your hand is a little outdated?” Eiji takes his right mitten off and interlaces his fingers with Ash’s.

“You’ll freeze,” he says. Despite his warnings, he silently wishes he doesn’t let go. Eiji feels like home. Ash squeezes Eiji’s hand like he’d disappear forever if they part, that he’d fall into the interdimensional space and never experience this cloyingly intimate moment ever again. 

“Your hand is cold, but it’s _your_ hand.”

His teeth stop chattering. His bones stop rattling. He’s one with the earth. He is the tint on Eiji’s cheeks, the prettiest of pinks, as he steeps in his warmth. He is the fractals falling from heaven, huddling in pacts to withstand the wintertide; the wisteria tree standing so proud, so bold— waiting for his spring.

No. Perhaps he is already in bloom.

iv.

There’s this kind of old-fashioned chic in this town. The architecture of most of the shops consist of old, wooden lattices and fading clay roof tiles. There are elements of modernity, with neon signs on these tiles and glass windows to showcase different thingamajigs and pastries. Some shops, however, have withstood the changes of time; artifacts from many eras preceding them. The name of the shops are in neat calligraphy that Ash cannot read. The brushstrokes are confident and thick, a work of art in itself. They had noren over the sliding doors to keep the snow out of the shops, oscillating in the wind.

Two bald women in what looks like gray pajamas leave one of these shops and upon locking eyes, Eiji bows down politely. They mirror him and it takes Eiji pulling on the sleeve of his coat for Ash to return the gesture.

“You know ‘em?” asks Ash. Eiji shakes his head.

“They’re nuns.”

“Oh.”

The shopping district is fuzzy with lanterns at every corner. It’s bustling with life with women in their elegant rouge kimonos, ripping into their shamisens as little kids dance on their stubby legs to every beat of the bachi. Shopping bags hang from the arms of tourists and those imbued with holiday spirit, like Christmas trees ostentatious with gold and silver ornaments.

“It gets pretty lively around the winter holidays,” Eiji says over the music and chatter. He is still holding his hand. “We won’t be long. I just wanted to visit the confectionary shop.”

“Take all the time you need. I’ll follow you wherever.” 

It’s funny. ‘Lively’ is quite different in Japan than in New York. It’s a universe away from New York. There, lively is fast, flashy, and ephemeral. People come and go. No one knows who you are. A gargantuan tree, televised, and a crystal ball drop. And then it’s like nothing ever happened. Everything is back to normal. Back to Wall Street and corporal neutrals and that _numbness_ constantly gnawing at your ankles.

Here, it’s quaint and tranquil. People know which side of the path to walk on. They say ‘ _gomen'_ in the softest of voices when they bump shoulders with you. Old uncles are glowing red in jubilee as they share a bottle of sake with sukiyaki to keep warm and the aunties scold them out of love about blood pressures and sugar levels, eventually capitulating to the joyous ambiance. Mothers and fathers and children walk in units, mittens in gloves in palms. A fleeting thought clouds his brain. He sees himself and Eiji there with a child of their own and he blushes, shaking his head until it sinks back down to the pits of his mind.

He catches the gaze of a teenage girl giggling behind a manicured hand and it makes his neck go red. He shoots his gaze down to his boots, unused to this newfangled attention.

“She said you’re handsome to her friend,” Eiji chides, smirking at his sheepishness.“‘ _I_ _s he a model_?’” he mimics an octave higher.

“Ah.” He runs a hand through his flaxen hair.

“Well, _gaijin_ , are you?” he teases, pressing himself to his arm.

“Stop that,” says Ash, lightly flicking his forehead.

“You know, I notice things. I see heads turn wherever we go. Girls fixing their bangs and smoothing their skirts down. Popping their lips with freshly-applied lipgloss. Cute, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? It’s just an observation. Surely you've noticed too, no?” 

“Just their stares sometimes. It’s like I’m walking without any pants on.” Ash takes a deep breath. “Other than that, not really.”

Eiji chuckles.

“Maybe you’re choosing not to see it.”

“Maybe all I see is you.”

* * *

Ash had bought a dozen boxes of sweets. Cat-shaped daifuku, mochi in the shape of snowmen, glazed dango, and floral-patterned cookies… He bought whatever caught Eiji’s eye in that homely little shop and he himself had become one of those walking Christmas trees.

“I haven’t had this since I was little!” Eiji is munching on some cubile mochi, powder dusting his lips white. 

“Give me a bite.” Ash opens his mouth and Eiji sticks it in. He chomps down on the candied treat, chewing slowly.

“Do you like it?”

“Tastes like lemons.” Chew. “And it’s got some kick.” Chew. “It’s weird.”

“That’s the Sichuan pepper you’re tasting! Name’s a little misleading, in my opinion.” He pops the rest in his mouth and sucks the tips of his fingers. “They say it brings good luck.”

Ash hums and then it goes silent as Eiji finishes the rest of his strange spice candy.

Nightfall was beginning to settle in. The snow reflected the saffron light from the lampposts guiding them back home and eventually, the snowflakes had transformed to astrals, winking at them from the indigo stage up above. Suddenly, Eiji stops in their route to connect these stars, tracing it with his pupils. Ash, instead, looks down at their joined hands. Eiji hadn’t once let go.

“I used to go to these New Year’s festivals when I was a kid with my family. Harumi and I, snacking on kirizansho while we made our way up to a shrine. A prayer for mochi. A prayer for snow. A prayer for fortune in the new year. A prayer for everything.” Eiji laughs. “There was a lot of praying back then when I was young. Stupid stuff. Toys. Running shoes. Popularity.”

“Any of ‘em come true?”

“When I was a boy, I’d purposely say them out loud so my parents could hear. ‘I want this cool mecha toy!’ and then I’d clap my hands together to seal the deal. Then months later, my parents would wrap that very toy up and gift it to me on my birthday. So in a way, I suppose my prayers were answered.” Eiji rubs Ash’s knuckles with his thumbs, sighing nostalgically. “As time passes, your faith… It kind of dwindles. See, after my accident…”

“Eiji…”

“I’d go to the shrine almost every day when I could. I’d pray for a miracle to happen. I’d clasp my hands together tight and I’d beg any of the thousands of gods out there to turn back time and change the outcome of that day.”

“You don't have to—”

“I got to meet you, Ash.” He tilts his head toward him and smiles, leading Ash’s hand up to cup his face. “I got to meet you. It's like, everything that happened _happened_ because I was meant to be with you. Like everything had led up to me standing here in this snow.” Eiji’s stare falters and he furrows his brows, dropping his hand to clutch at Ash’s lapels. “I must sound so goofy.”

Ash shakes his head and twirls the hair peeking from under his hat.

“Not at all.” 

“I'm a bit older now and I see things differently. I think a lot about us, about _you_ , and I try to piece these things together. I think about divine intervention, or pure coincidence. I think of those silly things; of snow day rituals and daily prayers and I begin to realize that they’re all sort of pointless.”

“So that whole inside-out pajamas…”

“I was curious, is all. The magic laid in _you_ , not the pajamas.”

Ash smirks and cocks his head to the side.

“Mister Okumura, if you wanted to get intimate—”

Eiji cups his mittened hand over Ash’s mouth, blushing profusely.

“Shush! I’m trying to have a moment here!” he huffs and pouts. “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t need gods or shrines or rituals anymore because you’re my lucky charm.”

“You’ve such a way with words.” Ash sticks his tongue out. “Which one of my books did you read?”

“You’re so! So!” Eiji stomps his foot and detaches from him ( _don’t go!_ ). “Ugh!”

Snow never looked so beautiful to Ash before. He’d only notice the scraped roads and salt and the muck that’d stain pure white. It only ever looked nice with Eiji at his side.

The town looks so tiny from here, up on this hill. Each bokeh light looked like spirits coalescing into one, pulsing entity. It's the town that birthed his dearest Eiji. It makes him drift off into some celestial fantasy world where they’re together, and all of their family and friends and their children are there, hiking along this path with the zest of kirizansho on their tongue all the way back to their house. His heart is overflowing with these dreams that don’t seem much like dreams anymore— rather, future certainties.

The mood is all too appropriate. He wants to kneel down before Eiji and worship.

 _Marry me._ “I love you.”

He kisses him quick, chaste, sweet— like swilling the juice of a new fruit. Their lips brush like plum blossom petals in the wind.

“I love you, too.”

Soon, all of this snow will melt. Soon green will spring forth and wildflowers thereafter and this kiss will just be another moment frozen in crystal. Despite the fleeting nature of time, Ash relishes in the present _,_ not wasting another second.


End file.
